The wind had tasted of iron and old prayers as his boots struck blackened stone, each step devoured by the hush of ruin. Around him, Veridia bled light through fractured spires. Wings arched, sword sheathed—but his hand lingered close. Luceris exhaled slowly, the breath curling despite the heat. Golden blood dried on his wrist, proof he still bled for Heaven... even as it forgot him. Then—a presence. Fingers flexed at his side. Eyes cut to the shadow. Show yourself. I know you're there.
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